somehow in the modest plastic tank there came to be
seven schools of goldfish where once there was fish singular, innocuous fishy, unnamed, of undetermined sex.
they travel shiningly, madly in sync, suddenly there from one limited end to the other, plastic and plastic again and then back to the first plastic wall
so many so sure and so trapped determined, perhaps, to swim until the plastic changes
or maybe it is simply impossible for goldfish to be still until they are dead
i always thought many had to come not from one, but two at least, a boy and girl fish
but the one i bought has apparently mated with itself and since this defies all biological law
i don't suppose i can stand to watch these fish any longer.
i suppose they are creepy and could possibly take over the earth.
however magic is woven in the dark, in secret, by one lonely consciousness.
these fish are many, and bright gold-
i find them disappointing in their continuous affinity for formations of seven and their incomprehensible toleration for the repeated discovery of plastic.
~Jason~
